


The Concierge of De Sade

by jaspuffin



Category: The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:19:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaspuffin/pseuds/jaspuffin
Summary: Gustave, being the bastard magnet he is, tries breaking Dmitri's stubborn pride in the best of ways (wes anderson if you see this i'm so sorry oh my god ksksksks,,)





	The Concierge of De Sade

**Author's Note:**

> right just a little backstory lmao, so i spent a whole day writing this, a day which i was supposed to give up to study for a maths exam, but alas i did not. so here we are.
> 
> July edit: FFFFFFF i did terribly on the exam lawlzzz,, anyway i'm happy this has received the acclaim it has :)

The Dmitri Desgoffe-und-Taxis gave up some damn precious time for this, so Monsieur Gustave’s so-called obscene spectacle had better live up to its notoriety. There wasn't a geriatric woman he knew who hadn't bore witness to this, giving him the feeling that Gustave might be a little on the soft side with the acts (hypothetically, if Dmitri had to go down on an old lady as a sexual torturer, he'd be too paranoid about accidentally murdering the poor thing instead of going at full force.)

So in preparation, he requested of a nearby custodian to bind his slick, naked body in dark mauve rope - one could only dream that Gus will warrant to anything not of the shade. Mauve purple is what he lives for, and it sure as hell will be the death of him. A detailed examination of what Dmitri adorned himself in for the night included the said ropes, strangling his arms behind it all, from shoulder to sesamoid. A token leather collar sat snug around his neck, and of course no sensory overload was complete without some sensory deprivation: a simple blindfold will suffice. Crouching on his knees in an inconspicuously average suite of the hotel, his hard-on certainly isn't raging quite yet. Dmitri simply needs the slightest contact of another while in the nude to get high enough. As proven when an ungodly soft finger traced his chin.

“Oh, darling, this couldn't be real. You send me into trances, you know, and quite frankly, this must be one.”

If Gustave could see the kind of snarky eye manoeuvres Dmitri was pulling behind the ribbon he'd be pulling Dmitri by his locks.

“Fuck, this is the most debilitating position I could cram myself into and you say _that_ ? When _aren't_ you a fruit?...”

As he made the remarks, Gustave had been unraveling a blunt whip from his palm in a crazed silence, just letting every stupid complaint from Dmitri hang on his ears just a little more.

“...and Christ, what’s with your never-ending cloud of L’Air de Pan- AHHHH, FUCK!”

The lower end of the whip cracked against the centre parting of his chest as he got his sentence slit to a halt.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Gustave cooed in mockery. “I had no idea the _tip_ of a leather rope was too much for the striking, strong Dmitri D.U.T.”

Finding out why personal slander was a turnon is a different issue for another time, Dmitri had a point to shove down Gustave’s little faggot throat.

“Oh, shut up, it was just unexpected. I can handle a fucking whip, you think my adult peers didn't get me smacked when I- SHIT!”

Right. He got the message. Speak and get reprimanded, or obey and get, well, reprimanded too but in a more mutually pleasing manner.

“Rather nice to see how you're handling the fucking whip, sweetheart.”

 _Sweetheart._ Goo in the form of a word. Goo that got Dmitri inadvertently blushing. Goo that offered a one way ticket for blood from the heart to the cock, leaving one soft and the other hard. Goo that made Gustave notice all those things.

He stood thigh-to-thigh with Dmitri, now not daring to say a word in anticipation of another whipping.

“Why so quiet now, darling? You can't simply keep your mouth so immobile, I'm sure we can find another oral pastime.” He took in the sight of Dmitri’s dick, how it was starting to crawl up at an angle, but decided to keep that for later. Bucked down at eye level with Dmitri, he traced the thin lips up to his black moustache which nobody thought was real, by the way.

And by eye level it wasn't technically ‘eye level’ since Dmitri’s were shielded by fabric. _Sort of redundant now_ , Gustave reckoned. _I only needed that to surprise him with that little whip thing._

“I'm going to take the blindfold off now, okay?”

“Oh, fucking finally. You have no-”

Gustave yanked the ribbon off and slapped Dmitri with it, “You're hard, I'm hard, but do you want me to carry on or don't you, my friend? If yes, do me the courtesy of shutting the fuck up.”

The heir couldn't even touch his face because of the rope, but how the _fuck_ does a silk strip cause friction burn? Great. This vulnerability isn't what he ever thought things would come to, let alone being dominated by a concierge.

Gus took a hand to Dmitri’s jawbone and traced down to his clavicle. If he wasn’t in sweet, sweet denial of letting Dmitri have all the pleasure just yet, he might’ve peppered some kisses along his neck as one does. Alas, he did not. Looking into the heir’s eyes he could feel the pressure on Dmitri’s closed mouth. All those curses waiting to be spewed into sound, good God! Gustave knew that would be his moment in the sun, a reward of some kind, and naturally no reward comes before a favour. Eh, he had a few things in mind.

“You know what they say, arousal can not only be found below one’s waist, but in the measure of one’s eyes as well. Yours are practically doelike, darling.”

 _Ugh. Spare me. Me being hard has nothing to do with you._ Had Dmitri been able to, he would’ve slapped the shitshow there and then, though that would probably just turn on both of them.

“Now, your consent is crucial here, but would you mind kindly sucking me off? It won’t take a minute, I’m quick as a recipient depending on the skill of the sucker, and you’re not the kind of man who looks like a mouth whore of sorts, but the choice is yours, my love.”

While Gustave _is_ being nice for a straight up sadist, the fucker has Dmitri bound by the limbs and growing harder as time passes. Dmitri figured he might as well be of service.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But don’t fucking blame me if I don’t make you come in thirty seconds. You agreed to do this with an inexperienced masochistic bitch, the fate of your cock is in my fucking mouth so don’t complain.”

“Oh, not at all, dear. The longer you keep going the better.”

Gus proceeded to remove his jacket, tossing it to the side. Unclipping his suspenders, tugging down his trousers, his multiple layers of shirts and all that, he felt a tide of relief sweep in as his cock saw the light of day. He never lets it show. His arousal, I mean. It strains against his abdomen like mad but he remains the same deadpan fruit-tart all the same.

Now, while his steady cock is barely new to Gustave, Dmitri suddenly took what he thought earlier out the fucking window: him being hard has everything to do with Gus right now. Sure, the heir had seen his own penis in the ‘cry for help’ stage as the prudent ones call it, but Gustave took it to another level. The rawness of it was odd, admittedly, but my God did that muscle look delectable.

“I’d tell you to get on your knees like a common prostitute myself but thankfully you put yourself in that spot, darling,” Gustave laughs as he sat down on the bed’s edge with his legs wide, knowing damn well that a description like that will send Dmitri into a rant. And so it did.

“Oh, fuck off! Tell me, does this feel like a fucking street whore’s mouth?” The impact of mouth to flesh (rather tongue to the entire base if we’re being specific here) made a low throated groan emanate from Gustave. At first, as Dmitri’s tongue lingered around the joining of balls to base, planning to work its way up. Gustave just so happened to be bloody sensitive around there. “Oh, good God, darling, you’re doing marvelously. Oh!” He planted his long fingers in Dmitri’s soft dark hair, trying not to ruin the styling since he’s ever a sucker for neat mops. Gustave moans decadently and without shame as the heir works his way around the cock. Dmitri licked the thing up and down, even engulfed it in his warm mouth for a treat, and took in every broken, pissed up noise Gustave made. In this case, he felt quite like the dominant instead, a ‘power submissive’ he heard the recipient call it. Dmitri was certainly not letting anything go to waste, though the hands ruffling his hair made him sick of the arm bondage.

“Do you, oh- oh, damn, would you mind terribly if- ahh, I made love to your mouth?”

Dmitri’s blessed answer came through as a moan around the cock, and Gus wasted no time in bracing himself on Dmitri’s shoulders. Thrusting up once, he realised it might’ve been the wrong time. At least he knows Dmitri’s gag reflexes work. He spluttered as his mouth left Gustave’s cock, leaving it in a pulsating leaking mess.

“Shit! Dmitri, my dear, are you alright? I’m so awfully sorry, you don’t need to continue.”

The heir breathes steadily and shakes his head, “No, no, Gustave, I’m finishing just what I started. Your taste is fucking irresistible, surprising for a bastard like you. And- hold on, my stomach’s dripping,” they both looked at Dmitri’s shiny abdomen.

“I reckon,” Gustave muttered, running his hands over Dmitri’s shoulders with ease. “Something along the lines of riding might be best for both of us. Only if you say so, of course.”

Dmitri sighed in disdain, “You fucking fag, what is it with you and pandering me for consent? I thought this whole charade was you taking charge of what happened, whether mutually desired or not.”

“Does that turn you on, being ordered around? I take it you’re far more of a whore than I thought. Well, if that’s what you want, get on that mattress and put your hands up by the headboard.”

“With what arms? Loosen me up first, prick.”

“Sincerest apologies, you sodding cunt.” He untied the ropes, noticing how unrefined the job was done and how easily Dmitri could have worked his way out of them. The faint red streaks left by them were rather beautiful, though.

With that, Dmitri found himself lying on the myriad of silk pillows of the double bed, stretched out with his arms lounging above his head, and whatever kind of dignity he had five minutes ago surely wasn’t present. “Alright, what do you have in mind next, some touchy feely love-making bullshit? Just as a precursor warning, I feel nothing for you.”

Gustave pouted sarcastically, “Oh, isn’t that a shame? No, darling, I just want to get both of us off. It’s what I’m good at.” He knelt onto the bed and swiftly placed his hands on either side of the man beneath’s chest. “You know, you are ridiculously attractive from up here. Before you say anything about the consent problem you seem to have, can I ask to kiss you? Perhaps while your mouth still has that red swelling about it from the fellatio?”

“Gustave, for fuck’s sake, put your penis inside me.”

“As you wish!” The concierge assaulted Dmitri’s mouth for a second in spontaneity before picking his legs up and wrapping them suitably around his waist. He could get used to this view, by God. Shit, he forgot to put on lubricant. Ah, well, precome is slick and slickness is a servant to sodomy.

“Fuck, oh, fuck, Gus…” a guttural moan turned voice crack escaped Dmitri, the entering cock not resisting the stretch of his hole. Gustave, the dramatist he so often turned into, let out a withering breath. “Are you alright, darling?”

“God, just keep… keep doing whatever the fuck that was,” Dmitri moved his hips upwards to capture more of it. The self induced thrust had him clutching at what he thought were closed curtains behind him. Gustave finally relaxed and slid in and out, the involuntary sounds they made filling the sweet air. The thrusts could vary from deep to shallow and Dmitri let nothing keep him quiet. This is what he came here for; ruthless obscenity courtesy of his good enemy, Gustave H.

“Dmitri, sweetheart, you’re so tight, you feel- ahh, fucking fantastic.”

“Go faster, please, Gus,” Dmitri had his eyes closed like Gustave was a sun he had to shield himself from. A sun who’s an immensely good fuck of that.

That begging was good gratification if Gustave’s being perfectly honest. The thrusting sped up and his fingers dug deeper into Dmitri’s hips. He’d thought of everything, that nothing surprising could happen anymore. Then he felt the man underneath him shift forward and clutch at his shoulders, whimpering into and kissing at his neck.

“Dmitri, oh God, oh God, you’re illustrious, you’re so wonderful, so damn wonderful.”

“God, shut up, Gustave, I’m ready-”

Indeed he was. Gus took it upon himself to take him even closer as we wrapped his fingers around that godforsaken cock. Dmitri burst into a wail not a second past.

Moments of pumping and thrusting later, Dmitri felt his core shake and threw his neck back, ejaculating into the steady hand of the concierge, leading to Gustave whorishly crying out the heir’s name in desperation and breaking loose inside of him. Red blotches were rampantly spreading across both of their exhausted bodies, and they breathed in a shatter. Neither of them were sure who collapsed against who but they found themselves entangled on the pillows when they regained somewhat normal mindsets.

“You were magnificent, darling, even if you were too much of a blatant pussy to let me completely humiliate you like I intended. Wouldn’t you love to do this again sometime?”

“Go fuck yourself, Gustave.”  



End file.
